If I was one of Santa's reindeer, I would be jealous of all the other reindeer. Say I'm Donner and Blitzen is getting better care from the elves, and more carrots and shit at chow time. I say "Fuck that," and stick my antler into Blitzen' liver. "What the hell happened to Blitzen?" says Santa.
"I dunno, he just fell over, complaining that his liver hurt," meanwhile I'm dumping antifreeze in Rudolph's dinner - Hasta la vista Rudolph, you fucking tool- and plotting my next move.
Santa is fine at the end of the day, and it's just me, Donner, flying around on Christmas night. Real life is a bitch, and it's Reindeer reindeer out here. who is going to save you? the Christmas police? Frosty the Snowman? I'll pay them off with the Elven gold I launder from the little pointy-eared humanoids while they're busy toiling away on the toy assembly line. Trust me, you don't want to fuck with Donner, just ask Blitzen. Oh yeah, you can't, because he's dead.